


gravity

by motherofangst



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: F/M, Rebelcaptain Secret Santa, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, did it from bodhi's pov because i thought it would be cute ???, okay listen ive been on this site for years and still cant tag worth a damn, outside pov, rebelcaptain secret santa 2k18, right before the battle of endor, title taken from the song "blindfolded" by kris allen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 03:26:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17195621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherofangst/pseuds/motherofangst
Summary: Truly, though, it did not take Bodhi long to find the reason for Cassian’s sudden distraction – he found the answer the form ofJyn Erso. The pilot had to refrain from letting his chest heave with the weight of the impact of ….Of course.It had been a dance he had watched from a distance for years now. Ever since Scarif ( or, perhaps, before, as the pilot had not been paying attention then ), Jyn and Cassian had gravitated around one another like a planet and its only moon. Albeit, Bodhi was hard pressed to pinpoint who was which. Maybe it didn’t need an answer –





	gravity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thereigning_lorelai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thereigning_lorelai/gifts).



> My Rebelcaptain Secret Santa gift for thereigning-lorelai! Not gonna lie, was super nervous ( in a good way ) about writing for her, as she's truly a Rebelcaptain Icon™ to me with her amazing edits. 
> 
> My prompt was "It's about who you look for in a crowded room, that's where your heart belongs", and I hope I did something with it that you enjoy! 
> 
> Please see the accompanying aesthetic post [here](http://motherofangst.tumblr.com/post/181481665339/youre-the-gravity-taking-hold-of-me-every-time-i) on my tumblr!

The Captain, when Bodhi flitted his gaze over to him, was all sharp edges and stiff lines -- as if an artist painted him roughly and quickly from charcoal. Arms were folded tightly over his chest, his back resting against the wall of the war room. His brows were set low, and the tight stance of his body left his jacket wrinkled. The glowing green of the holo in the center of the dimly lit room echoed in the depths of his brown eyes; and that gaze did not falter.  _ He was angry,  _ and it did not take someone who knew him as well as Bodhi Rook did ( albeit -- he would openly admit he did not know him as well as  _ others --  _ ) to know that. But, knowing him certainly  _ helped.  _ Cassian was quiet. And, while the office was  _ typically  _ such, stoic and silent, it was quiet in a way that made the pilot feel as if the ground beneath his feet might just split with the energy that the other was radiating. His own muscles  _ ached  _ watching how tightly Cassian’s shoulders were wound.

Of course, again, it did not take someone who know him well to discern  _ why  _ he was upset. It merely took a gentle  _ and surface  _ dive into his past with the Alliance. The Empire was building  _ another  _ Death Star --  _ another planet killer.  _ The same weapon that hundreds of rebels died for on the sands of Scarif. The same weapon that Cassian Andor felt responsible for the mission of the plans, of learning that it could truly be  _ destroyed.  _ The small handful of the  _ Rogue One  _ crew had survived, but other rebels did not find themselves quite as lucky. Bodhi knew that Cassian had enough blood on his hands that it seeped into the creases of his palms until it  _ stained  _ his skin -- but, somehow, he could see the deaths of the  _ Battle of Scarif  _ weighing and resting upon the Captain’s shoulders in a way unlike any other he may have inflicted with his own hand. Although, Bodhi was smarter than some may give him credit for -- he knew better than to try and pry. He knew that the soldier’s anger and rage was as sharp as a blade; and twice as deadly.

It was nearly too much for Bodhi to see Cassian -- his friend -- simmering and burning within his own anger. He felt as if he reached out and as much as touched him, Cassian’s skin would burn his hand. In fact, Bodhi would’ve almost thought him to be a statue if not for the steady, calm, and almost  _ eerie  _ rise and fall of his chest, and his slow, nearly methodical blinks.   
  
He doubted that, at this point, Cassian was even listening to Mon Mothma speak. Not after the commentary that  _ burned deep  _ of how many  _ died  _ to et the information displayed before them.  _ It was Scarif, all over again -- _

After a few long moments, the air to the left where Cassian stood  _ changed,  _ even if minutely. It felt less harsh, less stifling. Bodhi hesitated, but he did slowly -- with the edge of curiosity the pilot harbored -- turn his eyes to look back to him. He was surprised to find that his steely, focused gaze on the holo of the plans had become no longer unfaltering. That his line of sight had changed drastically. So, Bodhi turned his own to try and follow where the other was watching -- the lines that had been etched deep and dark into the spy’s features had dissipated, his shoulders had fallen slightly to something more rounded. Like some kind of  _ comfort  _ in the dark, chill of space had reached for him -- had wrapped itself around him and anchored him back down to reality. Had made him look  _ human  _ again.

Truly, though, it did not take Bodhi long to find the reason for Cassian’s sudden distraction -- he found the answer the form of  _ Jyn Erso.  _ The pilot had to refrain from letting his chest heave with the weight of the impact of ….  _ Of course.  _ It had been a dance he had watched from a distance for years now. Ever since Scarif ( or, perhaps, before, as the pilot had not been paying attention then ), Jyn and Cassian had gravitated around one another like a planet and its only moon. Albeit, Bodhi was hard pressed to pinpoint who was which. Maybe it didn’t need an answer --

Cassian’s eyes followed her as she moved near the center of the war room, as General Organa and General Solo volunteered their services for the mission down to Eadu as a strike team. Her hand rested on Leia’s shoulder, squeezing slightly and confirming her own presence there with a flame that Bodhi had seen ever since he had met her after Jedha. A fire he had always admired -- and one he knew that Cassian basked in like it was his sole source of warm some days. It was strange to see it develop, like a flower turning towards the sun, his eyes following Jyn in mundane moments inside and outside of Rebellion matters. And, honestly, he didn’t think Cassian even realized it was happening.  _ Even now.  _ And, for the first time since the meeting started, Cassian’s back left the wall as he stood straight, volunteering his own as well.

From the start, he had seen their gravitational pull grow more and more until it was something that Bodhi wondered how others  _ did not see --  _ or, perhaps others did. But they did not know Jyn and Cassian like he did and did not feel  _ safe  _ speaking aloud about it. Then again, Bodhi had never spoken  _ to them  _ about it, merely others. Some looked at him like he’d sprouted a second head. Some, like Leia, had seemed to make sense of his words with silence agreement.

He had, for years, wondered if something was there -- fizzling beneath the surface like lava beneath the cracks of a planet’s crust. Bubbling and just waiting for the moment to break the surface. The way their eyes would linger on one another, like there was no one else in the room -- in the universe -- even in a crowded war room like  _ now.  _ There was something unspoken and nearly tangible that the pilot felt like he could almost reach out and touch. Or, maybe he was just thinking about it too hard.

While Bodhi had no doubt that Cassian likely would’ve given his services to the strike team  _ regardless,  _ he knew that it was Jyn that had shaken him out of his rage driven stupor -- that had ripped him out of the memories of the aftermath of Scarif, the aftermath of the  _ Battle of Yavin.  _ The change in the way that Cassian was holding himself  _ nearly  _ led Bodhi to follow suit.  _ Nearly --  _ Bodhi’s place, he knew, was in a fighter, not on the ground, where his talents could flourish and have an impact. Even so, he had to tamper down on the impulse -- the fire that the two gave out when they sparked against one another -- crossing his arms over his chest and ducking his eyes down the moment that Jyn and Cassian’s eyes met. As he almost felt as if he was intruding upon something so intimate, so private, that it made his chest tight.

His eyes were on the floor long enough that the meeting soon began to disperse, those heading to their stations -- heading to their quarters -- for their last few hours before the fight. And when he did look back up, the room was nearly clear and the holo was flickered out; leaving an empty energy that hovered thick in the room. And, in the center, Cassian had crossed the space to Jyn’s side.  _ That gravity  _ that urged them together that Bodhi was still too hard pressed to explain. Jyn’s hand rested on his upper arm, and he began to have his doubts that their eyes ever once separated from the moment that they had met during the end of the meeting. He  _ also  _ began to doubt that they had even spoken one word aloud as of yet, galaxies of words seemed to be spoken between the gaze, and Bodhi found himself wondering how he was the only one who noticed -- how he was the only rebel still left behind with the painfully intimate moment between the two soldiers. Rebels had filed around them, like a river on a course, and the two remained circle around one another as if the universe had tunneled down to them. 

But, they were closer still, her chest nearly touching his, and her hand still resting on his bicep. And, Cassian is leaning in, speaking low words in her ear that Bodhi believes he would never get to know -- words he was never  _ meant  _ to know. He had the instinct to pull his eyes away again, but he did not. He felt he was witnessing something … precious. Lovers, right before the war -- but instead of one lover going to war to leave the other behind, they were vowing to go hand in hand. There was something … terribly bittersweet there that it made Bodhi’s heart ache.

When Cassian pulled back, he looked down at her as her own expression softened, just as Cassian’s had done before. And he’s  _ smiling --  _ it was barely there, shadowed by the gravity of the situation. But there, nevertheless. It was genuine, and she returned it with a light and minute nod; squeezing his arm before moving to let her hand drop away. Instead, he’s capturing the wrist of it, gently -- even if his hands possessed the skill to take it in a vice. He handles her gingerly to the point that, if Bodhi hadn’t seen it, he wouldn’t have believed it. Cassian’s free hand comes to her jawline, feathering across it and he watches Jyn sigh, watches her eyes close. The Captain’s lips come inches from hers, and again he’s whispering something; resting his forehead against hers to share her air for several long moments before stepping away.

Cassian is then turning to leave, his eyes flickering once in Bodhi’s direction before his back is turned -- hand dropping away from Jyn completely. And Jyn, like a moon to its planet, ( or, perhaps, the other way around -- Bodhi still is unsure ) followed closely behind.


End file.
